


You and Your Summers

by themunchking



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: A little experimental a little dreamy a little all over the place, Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys In Love, Coming Out, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Maybe 50 percent is edited, No Beta we ride at dawn, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:35:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23832496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themunchking/pseuds/themunchking
Summary: Vignettes from summer. The months pass in a haze.In the fall, Mark goes back to Seoul.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 24
Kudos: 158





	You and Your Summers

It’s August and the air is humid and muggy, so much so that it leeches through into Mark’s dorm room and leaves his sheets feeling uncomfortably damp. Johnny’s apartment, therefore, is a lifeline, and the older man doesn’t care how much Mark racks up his electricity bill when he parks himself in front of Johnny’s window A/C unit. 

All the better when Johnny pulls Mark into bed. Though Mark would never say it out loud, Johnny knows that he likes to be enveloped in Johnny’s arms when he can be, likes to have the heavy weight of another body on his when Johnny pushes in. It suits Johnny and their lazy summer evenings just fine—lazy sex where Johnny can kiss and feel Mark everywhere. 

That’s in the evening, after they’ve eaten dinner and Johnny has gotten some work out of the way. Usually during that time Mark dedicates himself to improving his _Smash_ skills so he can kick Jaemin and Jisung’s ass all the way to Busan when he gets back to Korea. But Johnny’s been encouraging him all summer to get out with Hendery, Yangyang, and the other interns more, too. 

Most nights he still ends up in Johnny’s bed. 

In the morning it’s the same lazy pace but on their sides. Mark knows what he’s doing when he squirms his way closer to Johnny, though it’s not _entirely_ an attempt to rub his ass against Johnny’s morning hard on. Inevitably, though, Johnny props himself up onto an elbow and pulls Mark’s top leg up and back, so that the younger is open for him. There are days when he’s slick enough from the night before for Johnny to just take him again like that. Mark likes it best when he’s half-asleep and the pleasure mixes with the warmth and haze of just barely being awake. 

Johnny rocks him steady, every thrust inside pushing Mark’s dick through Johnny’s grip. It’s usually good enough for Mark for him to come just like that, with Johnny pressing all the right spots inside of him. He lets Johnny use him more after, too, until the overstimulation becomes too much, in which case they sometimes end with Johnny just jerking himself off in the warm space of Mark’s parted thighs. 

They have to change the sheets a lot. 

Really, it’s all becoming ridiculously domestic. 

Not that Mark doesn’t actually love that—because he does. He loves it that Johnny likes him with his hair messy and unstyled, that the times when he can’t seem to keep his hands off Mark are when the younger is dressed casual and cozy in one of Johnny’s too-big shirts (Johnny _really_ likes it when Mark wears his clothes. It’s by far the easiest way to get him riled up, barr Mark just skipping all pretense and dropping to his knees). He loves that Johnny prefers his glasses over his contacts, is perfectly fine staying in with Mark and curling together on the couch instead of going out. 

But there’s also the reality that Mark only gets to have this for a few more weeks. Then it’s back to Korea. Mark is kind of dreading it, actually, and mostly it’s because he has to leave Johnny, but it’s also not all of it. Being back in North America had its problems, sure, like when that guy was squinting in a way that didn’t mean he was confused at Mark on the train the other day, but he can walk down the street holding hands with Johnny and no one thinks twice about it. Johnny’s friends always talk about how adorable they are together and the few fellow members of his cohort Mark has met always ask questions about their relationships like they’re a normal couple. Which, they are. 

Listen—it’s not like Mark thinks his friends back in Korea won’t be alright with it. Hell, he’s pretty sure Donghyuck is gay himself. It’s just that Mark knows he doesn’t look the type—he’s very much aware of the booksmart-jock vibe he gives off. In North America, Mark is out. His parents even started going to a Unitarian church instead of an Presbyterian one. He goes on long walks with Johnny down the esplanade and they kiss on the docks. In Korea he’s not _not_ out but... well, he won’t lie about it, but he doesn’t go around telling people, either. 

Yeah, ok, he’s a little scared. 

Johnny doesn’t push him. He gets it. 

Instead of constantly thinking about the looming anxiety returning to Korea brings, Mark tries to focus on other things, like how he gets to have great sex whenever he wants and how comfortable Johnny makes him feel. Mark’s brain is hardwired to think Johnny-equals-english, but they talk in Korean together occasionally, just enough for both of them to feel like they’re not losing anything. 

They eat dinner together for the most part, Johnny cooking him an arrangement of food Mark doesn’t get unless he’s at his parent’s house. 

“You can’t just eat ramen you made in the microwave,” Johnny likes to say. “You don’t even have sriracha. Ketchup isn’t a substitution.” 

Seriously, it’s not that bad. Try it sometime. 

Eating together is a comfort. It feels like sharing something intimate, something beyond words that Mark isn’t eloquent enough to stitch together. When he tries to voice his feelings it always comes out as a stuttering mess, littered with _likes_ and _yannos?_

It causes Johnny to watch him with an amused raised brow, patiently waiting Mark out until he works himself into an embarrassed fluster to the point where he gives up and collapses in Johnny’s arms, a blushing mess. 

Yes, Mark is a bit of a disaster. And is it a point of self-consciousness, especially considering their little bit of age gap and how much older Johnny just _feels._ Like he’s a whole person, fully formed, and Mark is just a work in progress. Despite it, though, Johnny seems to like him anyways. 

“You’re so cute, Markie,” Johnny always says with his teasing smile. Loops his arm around Mark’s shoulders like it belongs there. It does. It feels like it does. 

Summer is endless. East coast sunsets blanket over the river, stretching the night on for hours. Humidity seeps into everything, mixing the world into a warm soup that blends one day into the next, one week into the following. And through it all, Johnny’s hand in his. 

It’s a shame that all this has an expiration date. All this will come to an end. 

Until then, though, there’s summer.

  
  


_Woah, Johnny, the seal! The seals!_

  
  


Mark takes the train to Johnny’s neighborhood, the train slowly making its way through the above-ground stops, after he’s free from the clutches of his internship. The pay is ok, and the company’s quite prestigious, and Mark’s gotten a lot of experience on production shoots, but they have a tradition of keeping interns way past five o’clock and of course don’t pay them overtime. So Mark ends up walking into the restaurant nearly twenty minutes late, oversized backpack Johnny makes fun of him incessantly for looped over his shoulders. 

Johnny waves at him stupidly when he sees him surveying the interior. It’s a Korean place, one specializing in soondubu jjigae, probably one of two half-decent places in the city (but the other one is a Korean-Mexican fusion place, so maybe that doesn’t count—but he and Johnny are obsessed with their kimchi fries, bastardization they are). Sometimes it’s a relief to be able to order in Korean. The place runs a little pricey, but Johnny always makes a show of paying when they go out. Mark makes sure to greet the hostess politely before taking his place at the table. 

It’s not just Johnny, tonight. Along with them are Johnny’s two best friends: Jaehyun, who’s in Johnny’s cohort with him; and Ten, Johnny’s longtime BFF-4-Ever who also happens to be a well-established contemporary artist with a residency in town (Mark’s not into art, but because Ten’s art involves choreography, he’s gotten to be in a few of his pieces. It’s really cool). 

It’s not Mark’s ideal seating situation—he ends up on the booth side across from Johnny, which is nice because they can play footsies under the table like they’re twelve, but Ten is seated to Johnny’s side. This allows him to freely stare and question Mark as easy as he’d like. Ten is incredible, really, but he’s not exactly _nice_ , either. And because he’s been best friends with Johnny since they were in middle school together, he thinks that everything involving Johnny also involves _him_. Including Mark. 

(Both Jaehyun and Johnny find the whole thing pretty amusing.) 

“Hey baby.” As soon as Mark settles in his seat Johnny’s reaching across the table to grab Mark’s hand. And ah, there it is, the slide of Johnny’s foot against his calf. Jaehyun and Ten provide an additional chorus of _hello’s_. “How are you feeling? It was a long day, right?”

“Ugh, exhausted,” Mark groans. Johnny gives his hand a supportive squeeze. “My bosses at work are so disorganized so they had us do all this work for no reason _and_ managed to be condescending about it.” 

Jaehyun gives him a grimace. “It’s the same at every job, sad to say.” 

“Johnny, did you hear the CDC announcement? The government...” 

Before meeting Johnny, Mark didn’t know the first thing about public health. But whenever Johnny and Jaehyun are together the topic of conversation inevitably leads to epidemiology in West Africa or needle exchanges in Detroit. It’s not the kind of thing Mark ever thought would be interesting, but he can see the shots of the documentary in his head when they speak—instead of wide aerial shots of African jungles, he sees an open door to a village hut with a family inside, a frame within a frame. Ebola is massive but it hits families close to home. 

Johnny’s hand pulls him back to reality. He doesn’t know how long, but he’d definitely just been zoning out, hard.

“Hey space cadet, you listening?” Ten is saying. All eyes are on him. 

“Uhhhhh, sorry, totally missed that. What?” 

“Geez, I’m trying to compliment you and you’re not even listening. Nevermind then, you don’t get to hear it,” Ten pouts. He’s hard for Mark to read—he could be totally serious for all he can guess. 

“Ten was saying how much he liked that song, the one you put up on SoundCloud,” Johnny fills in. Under the table he traps one of Mark’s feet between his own. Mark doesn’t have to ask—he knows it was Johnny who showed him. 

“Oh, thanks man, that means a lot. It’s hard making stuff without all my equipment, but I met a guy at an open mic at a bagel place who goes to music school. He let me into a studio there.” 

“Film director, musician, dancer, that’s my baby. SM, where’s his contract?” Johnny gives him a look that says if there wasn’t a table in the way, he would kiss him. Ten gags. 

But really, Mark thought about it. Auditioning. He’d been dancing and writing music for his entire life, but he knows what goes on in those companies. That’s not how he wants his life to be, and if that’s what it would take to succeed, then Mark is willing to try and find another way. And when he makes films, he gets to do all of that stuff anyways. 

Plus, if Mark were an idol, he wouldn’t get to have Johnny. 

They catch the bus home (read: Johnny’s apartment) and Mark curls instinctively into Johnny’s side, his head falling naturally into the warm crook of his neck. The strange, too-bright lighting of the bus makes the bright blue and yellow interior feel uncanny. 

“Having an adult job sucks,” he mumbles, already half asleep. “So tired all the time.” 

Johnny laughs softly and scratches Mark’s back underneath his shoulder blades. “That’s why you have to love what you do,” he says. 

“Johnny.” Mark’s not really thinking when he speaks, so tired that he’s just saying the words as they form in his mind. “Don’t wanna go back to Korea. Wanna stay here with you.” 

“Hey, hey,” Johnny says. He tips Mark’s chin towards him and they kiss, and though the angle is strange Mark still thinks it’s perfect. “You started something, now you have to finish it. Don’t worry, I’ll be waiting for you as long as you need.” 

Mark wraps his arm around Johnny’s waist. There’s so much assurance in that statement, even if Mark has no idea how the logistics are going to work. Johnny’s such a dreamer, sometimes. He says a lot of things he doesn’t mean, or doesn’t believe.

Mark likes that. “Good.” 

  
  


_But I could see for miles, miles, miles._

  
  


He floats somewhere between tipsy and drunk. They’re at some outdoor music venue attached to a local brewery, which America is obsessed with, waiting to see a friend of Johnny’s perform with their band. Her name is Wendy, and she sings and plays the fiddle and wears socks with her Tevas. The security at the venue is lax, so no one is watching if Mark nurses a beer as long as Johnny buys it for him. He misses Korea where he can go out drinking with his friends whenever they please. 

Sometimes Mark is a sleepy drunk, but for what feels like the first time in a long time, he feels energized and excited. Johnny says he’s acting like a puppy, and there’s more truth to that than a sober Mark would admit. While they’re waiting for Wendy’s set Mark practically crawls into Johnny’s lap so that his legs are thrown across Johnny’s thighs. 

It’s one of those summer nights where Mark feels like he’s a balloon trying to fly away, and the only thing keeping him tethered down is Johnny. They’d been cooped up the last few days because of rain, but now the sun has come out, spreading out pink and blue and purple, so hence why they find themselves cuddling on a bench in a little amphitheater. 

“Oh, young love!” 

Because Johnny is nice, he insisted on inviting Mark’s roommates. Yangyang and Hendery are nice, though Mark hardly sees them considering how he spends almost every night at Johnny’s. It’s an arrangement that works out pretty well for everyone—Mark gets all the sex he wants, and Yangyang and Hendery practically live in a double instead of a triple.

Hendery has a remarkably convincing fake, so he’s drinking beer. Yangyang, who’s a year younger than Mark, is drinking some kind of monstrous concoction of vodka and raspberry seltzer out of a Poland Springs water bottle because he’s too young to know there’s better ways to get drunk out there. 

They’ve been good friends, Mark admits. But he’s lucky neither of them are Korean, because he thinks they’d get on a little _too_ well with his friends back at school. (At the end of the summer, Hendery is going back to school in UCSD, Yangyang to Germany. Both have already invited Mark to visit them.) 

“Yang, you’re just jealous _you_ don’t have a cute boy to make out with,” Hendery laughs. Yangyang can dish it out, but he’s not half as good at taking teasing himself. 

“This one’s mine,” Mark says, and Johnny reaches and pulls Mark’s face to the side so they can kiss. And because Johnny’s not sober, either, he doesn’t hesitate to stick his tongue into Mark’s mouth straight off. And of course Mark lets it happen, until he starts to get embarrassed and swats at Johnny’s shoulder with the back of his hand, laughing. Johnny swoops back in for an open-mouthed kiss along the side of Mark’s neck and he whispers—

“I’m going to fuck you so good later.” 

—after which Mark can barely contain his groan. He does blush, though. Johnny often says things just to see him blush. 

Mark’s body always leans towards Johnny’s. It’s an addiction, this. 

_Remember the days of our first happiness,_

_how strong we were, how dazed by passion,_

_lying all day, then all night in the narrow bed,_

_sleeping there, eating there too:_

  
  


Johnny’s been gone for a week at a conference. When you only have a few months with someone, a week is ages. As soon as they get past the happy hug Mark practically drags Johnny to his bedroom and pushes him onto the bed, only so Mark can drop to the floor in between his boyfriend’s long legs and get to work on his belt as fast as he possibly can. 

“Mark,” Johnny says, but he ignores him. He gets Johnny’s belt undone, then his jeans, and that’s all that he really needs. “ _Mark_ ,” Johnny says again, more persistent now. He puts his hands on Mark’s shoulders and forces him up so they can look each other in the eye. 

“ _J_ _ohnny_ ” Mark whines. His mind feels scrambled and they haven’t even done anything yet. “I missed you so much, hyung, please, let me show you.” 

(Mark never calls Johnny hyung.) 

Mark knows that Johnny is the one who likes to be in charge, who likes to take care of Mark and focus on his pleasure. But he also knows that Johnny likes it when Mark does this, too, submits himself to Johnny, _for_ Johnny. 

Above him, Johnny groans, and Mark can see that he’s won. 

  
  


_it was summer,_

_it seemed everything had ripened_

_at once. And so hot we lay completely uncovered._

_Sometimes the wind rose; a willow brushed the window._

A bead of sweat makes its slow journey down the side of Johnny’s neck, following the contours of the tendons until it comes to pool, glistening in the afternoon sun, in the hollow of his collarbone. Mark tracks this all carefully with his eyes. He has the perfect view from where he’s lounged a short distance away on Johnny’s tiny porch. The space is so small that if he just stretched his legs out a little more, they’d find Johnny’s lap. 

Tempting. Probably sweaty, too. 

_Forever._ Mark wants this forever. He wants to grab onto Johnny and selfishly never let go of him; he wants to have the older man carry him around hoisted over his shoulders; he wants Johnny’s indulgent smile following him wherever he walks in life. 

That’s impossible to say out loud. It hurts his head and heart, to think and feel that deeply. 

So he lets it be. Allows it to sit over him like the heat. 

At the moment, Johnny is reading, head stuck is some large and probably dense book related to his degree. Being a grad student sounds awful—having to work even in the summers. 

Mark tries not to fidget. He wonders what it’s like for Johnny, who always seems so comfortable in his skin, confident in any given scenario. Most days, Mark gets by on nervous laughter and a natural charisma he doesn’t deserve. 

Underneath his skin, Mark itches. It’s not just the heat. He’s been possessed by a feeling that’s been building for some time now—he doesn’t want this to end. The summer, him and Johnny. Every gorgeous cotton candy sunset inches uncertainty closer and closer. Everyday it corrodes Mark a little further. 

A doomed summer romance. It sounds romantic, until you’re in the moment. 

Johnny catches him looking. He’s got a sixth sense for it, or maybe he’s the one who always wants to be looking at Mark. 

  
  


_You’re as warm as a glass brandy._

_Honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time._

  
  


Mark is faster than Johnny, and more flexible. It’s a trait they abuse endlessly in the bedroom. Blame it on youth—they like a tussle, sometimes, before lips on lips and skin on skin. But it’s also wonderful at times like this, at a yoga class when Mark’s body bends to his will and folds easily into any shape he wants while Johnny struggles with his freakishly long limbs. 

Sure, his boyfriend can lift more than he can, but when they’re wrestling, Mark can always manage to duck out of the way and run away, laughing breathlessly, unless of course he wants to be caught. 

It was Johnny’s idea, actually, working out together. They spend so much of their lives together, anyways, Mark’s perfectly content to maintain his normal residency in Johnny’s apartment. But Johnny is the kind of person who likes to _do_ things, experiment with his schedule, and he’s realized he can convince Mark to do anything with him. 

This might just be an elaborate ploy to spend an hour and a half staring at Mark’s ass. 

  
  


_Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,_

_Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not._

  
  


Johnny’s chest makes the perfect pillow, his lap the most comfortable seat in the house. As the actors on stage play out Shakespeare’s words, Johnny taps out the meter on the flat of Mark’s chest so that he feels the vibrations reverberating out from his sternum. 

Of courage Johnny likes Shakespeare, and theatre, and romantic dates in the park. In his core, despite his cool-guy attitude and his performance of not taking anything _too_ seriously, Johnny is a romantic. He eats shit like this up. And because Johnny likes it, so does Mark. 

Besides, he finds himself enjoying the play, despite the intellectualism of it all going over his head. It feels like listening to Rain again for the first time, before he could understand what all the strange Korean vowels meant. Everyone around them watches with rapt attention—like they’re in on a secret bank of knowledge Mark has no access to—or not at all, which could be said for the teenagers passing sips of a Gatorade bottle around. 

There are parts where Johnny mouths along with the lines, whispering softly so only Mark can hear. 

“Yooooo, this is actually really cool,” Mark says at intermission. Johnny cackles. 

“I can’t believe you doubted me!” he says in fake outrage. 

“I didn’t!” Mark protests. He could never doubt Johnny. Mark trusts him, with everything, implicitly. 

  
  


_Now entering Park Street._

_Change here for the Red and Orange Line._

_Doors will open on both sides._

_The destination of this train is Lechmere._

  
  


“You’re the worst packer I’ve ever met,” Johnny says, tone deceptively light. Mark, personally, feels weighed down by lead. No wonder he hasn’t managed to pack well—he might as well be dragging around fifty pounds of dread. 

Spread out around them is the remains of Mark’s belongings in his dorm room that somehow have to find their way into Mark’s already packed suitcase. 

“I don’t get it,” Mark groans. He wants to give up. He wants to take Johnny by the hand and see if the waffle truck is outside and eat strawberries and nutella. “It’s not like I got that much more stuff.” 

Well—not counting all the clothes of Johnny that he may or may not have squirreled away. He’s pretty sure his boyfriend knows about it, even if he won’t say anything. 

They’re not breaking up. 

They _talked_ about breaking up. Well, Mark did. He broached the subject, figuring it would be easier for him to do it than wait for Johnny. He decided to do it first to keep himself from breaking. 

He hadn’t been prepared for Johnny’s absolutely _shattered_ expression, that look of pure devastation filling all the crevices of his face—

  
  


_“Is this really what you want?”_

_“I mean— I guess—_

_I don’t want it to hurt more later.”_

_“That’s not an answer. Do you actually_ want _to break up?”_

_“No, fuck, no. Of course not.”_

_“Then what’s there to worry about?”_

  
  


Quietly, Johnny wraps him into a tight hug, the calm in the center of Mark’s vibrant chaos. 

“God Mark,” Johnny says into his hair. Mark’s not sure at first, but then the wet drops falling onto the top of his head become impossible to ignore. Johnny’s crying. Johnny _never_ cries. He’s only ever sniffled in front of Mark once, after talking with his mom on her birthday. “I love you, you know that?” 

“I love you too,” Mark chokes out over his own tears. He feels no shame in crying like this. It’s not even that Mark is leaving, or that they’ll be apart. There’s fear for that, of course, but Johnny has promised they’ll make it work and of course ( _of course_ ) Mark trusts him. 

He’s crying because it’s just... it’s just a lot. He’s crying because summer is over, and he can never have it back as hard as he wishes, and even if it’s their natural conclusion, it’s hard when things end. 

They’ve promised, though. Promised they’ll be ok. 

Mark works hard—at everything. His relationship isn’t any different. And with Johnny at his back, he feels fifteen and unstoppable. 

But oh, how he wishes the sun would never set. 

  
  
  


_The peony or paeony_ _is a flowering plant in the genus Paeonia, the only genus in the family Paeoniaceae. Peonies are native to Asia, Europe and Western North America._

  
  
  


“Yoooo, ah-ah-ah, Mr. American,” Donghyuck says in english as soon as he and Mark are close enough. God, he’s such an embarrassing best friend. He’s been listening to a lot of American hip hop lately, and Mark’s not sure it’s a good influence on him. 

Truthfully, Mark wasn’t a great friend during the summer. He was busy with his internship, and the time difference was a bitch, so that whenever Mark texted something to the group chat he wouldn’t get a reply for another twelve hours most days. And then there was Johnny, of course. And Johnny is—

Is—

A secret. Kind of. 

Mark doesn’t really give a fuck about social media, so that wasn’t a problem. He’s all of Johnny’s carefully curated feed, but that doesn’t matter when Mark’s friends don’t have any way of connecting them. 

He just never told them. He’s not hiding anything, he merely never got around it. That’s what he tells himself. 

All of Mark’s friends together pile into one booth at their favorite Korean BBQ place, down the road from Donghyuck’s closet-sized single apartment that they’ll return to. Flying into Incheon, Mark had forgotten how _dense_ Seoul was. 

For them, three months is a long time. Mark’s missed quite a bit, but everyone is happy to fill him in. Jisung has grown what looks like several centimeters. Jeno has a girlfriend, someone Jaemin set him up with that causes him to be insufferably smug. Donghyuck has decided to switch his major—again. Renjun met this guy from Hong Kong at a hostel he stayed at in Australia and he’s hilarious, apparently, here are a thousand videos as supporting evidence. 

Even though Mark being in America for a full summer is a major topic of interest, their attentions bounce around so quickly Mark manages to be light on the details. 

The only person who notices is Jaemin, who he finds one or twice eyeing him sharply over his bottle of soju from across the table. 

Mark averts his eyes. He might expect to be concerned later, but Jaemin’s primary role in the group is to keep spirits up and everyone happy and amused. He won’t say anything to Mark now, not like this in front of everyone. 

He puts thoughts of confrontation out of his mind. He’s not sure yet, if he’ll tell Jaemin about Johnny right away if he asks. They’ve talked about it, and Johnny told him in the gentlest words he understands if he wants to take it slow with his friends. 

  
  


_“You met someone, didn’t you?”_

_“I—yeah, I did.”_

_“Aaaaaaah, nursing a broken heart?”_

_“Something like that, I guess.”_

_“Damn, she did a number on you, huh?”_

_“It’s ongoing, actually.”_

_“No shit, really?”_

_“Yeah. Really. And uh— he.”_

_“Hm?”_

_“He. I met a boy.”_

_“Oh.”_

  
  


Good on his word, Jaemin doesn’t tell anyone. After the initial surprise, Mark had watched his friend break out into a brilliant grin. The kind that could pull sunflowers towards it. He hadn’t said anything else, but he’d thrown an arm around Mark in a way that let him know everything was all ok. 

If nothing else, Jaemin must be satisfied to be caretaker of this secret over anyone else. 

Compared to summer, fall speeds by in a whiplash. Mark is busy with school; he’s busy making minor trouble with his friends; he’s busy making calls with Johnny and maneuvering the scheduling obstacle course that is a thirteen hour time difference. 

Long-distance is easier in unexpected ways and harder than Mark ever could have dreamed. More nights than not, Mark wakes up just _lonely,_ missing the warmth of a body next to his in bed. He misses the way Johnny smells, like the earth, and books, and smoky cologne. 

But there are also times where Johnny feels _right there_ and nothing has changed at all. Those times, though they’re in the slim minority, make the rest bearable. 

Johnny, for the most part, doesn’t call him randomly. It’s easier for them both to set up times—it’s like setting up a date. And also they’re bright spots in the week that give Mark something to look forward to. 

But still, when Johnny calls while Mark is “cooking” (in the loosest sense of the word) dinner, he picks up. 

_“Yo Markie.”_ Johnny sounds... nervous? A little shaky, or maybe that’s the connection. He’s dropped out of contact for a while during the day when normally he’d be texting Mark memes, but sometimes that happens. With long distance, Mark’s learned, you don’t get to know everything. 

“Hey babe,” Mark answers. He’s distracted, trying to fry his eggs and talk at the same time. “What’s up?” 

_“Are you home? Are you busy?”_

“I’m cooking. Er, trying. I guess.” Mark’s mind wanders to why Johnny is asking. Maybe he has something fun in mind. Someone knocks on the door to Mark’s apartment. He shares a place with Jaemin and Renjun, both of whom can be relied upon to always be out. “Hold up, someone’s at the door. Maybe my roommate forgot—” 

Johnny is scooping him up into his arms the moment Mark opens the door, too fast for him to react, and if this were a robbery, Mark would be so dead. But it’s not, it’s not, and Johnny is here and Mark can hardly believe it. 

“Oh much god what the _fuck?”_ Mark says, choked through the force of Johnny’s crushing hug. 

“Using the lord's name in vain for me now Markie?” 

“Shut up.” Mark pivots to pressing kisses across Johnny’s face, his cheeks, his neck, anywhere he can reach. It’s only been a few months, but Johnny fills everything he’s been missing. He wants more, needs more, to climb into the space between Johnny’s ribs, so he drags him over to the couch. 

“Not going to show me around?” His boyfriend asks, not sounding at all surprised or reluctant. Mark shuts him up with a kiss. Johnny jokes, but his hands are serious when they remove Mark of his clothes easily, first his shirt, then his sweatpants.

Mark still fits perfectly in Johnny’s lap. Logically, nothing about _this_ has changed, but it’s still incredibly relieving to know everything is still as it used to be. 

Grinding down, Mark is gifted with a groan from deep within Johnny’s chest. His body trembles with anticipation, for the burn of trying to take Johnny’s cock again. He’s just about to focusing on getting _Johnny’s_ clothes off when—

Naturally—

All of Mark’s friends burst in. 

  
  


_Red chili pepper flake ("gochugaru" In Korean) is one of the key ingredients in Korean cooking. It cannot be replaced with chili flakes or sauces from other cultures when cooking authentic Korean food._

  
  


Johnny charms the pants off all of Mark’s friends. Of course he does, because not only is Johnny naturally charming, but today he puts it on heavy. And he has the added benefit of being their cool American hyung, which elevates his status tremendously. 

Enough to where they forget about seeing Mark with _his_ pants off. Almost.

If anyone is surprised by seeing Mark with a man, they hide it remarkably well. Or at least behind the trauma of seeing Mark nearly naked. 

They also get a kick out of trying out random english words on him, something Mark refuses to indulge. Donghyuck is naturally the primary perpetrator of this, and oh god, Mark can see the seeds of friendship developing already. 

“Your friends are fun,” Johnny murmurs softly while he and Mark are doing the dishes and cleaning up the takeout. Jaemin, bless him, has distracted the rest with Mario Kart. Mark’s glad he doesn’t say the _you had nothing to worry about_ like he could have. 

Mark burrows himself closer to Johnny and his comfy sweatshirt. It smells like his apartment in America. Like summer. Like home. “When are you leaving?” 

“Come on Mark,” Johnny says cheerfully, though the hand on his back rubs soothing circles. “Don’t think about shit like that. I’m here now. I’m here.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I began this fic at the end of last summer when I was feeling Some Kind of Way about graduating. So I wrote a love letter to my home, pretty messy and more experimental than my usual flow. And now I’ve just finished it when I’m missing summer most. But spring is on it’s way. It’s threatening to break through the gloom. 
> 
> Friends, I hope you’re all well in quarantine. Do yoga, make delicious foods, and read all the fic you want. As always, if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving kudos or comments. Till next time <3
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/themunchking1) | [CC](https://curiouscat.me/themunchking)


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